


a physical fatality

by sebfish



Series: easier to be [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: F/M, Incest, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-24 00:46:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12001401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebfish/pseuds/sebfish
Summary: It’s been three months since she kissed him over the summer and he saidmaybeinstead ofno. He should be keeping his distance, letting her grow out of it away from him, but, well.He kisses her good morning in the kitchen because she’s wearing one of his shirts with a pair of sleep shorts and she’s sleepy and rumpled and beautiful and he’s always been a weak man.





	a physical fatality

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys it's me again, it's a series now. I thought I'd have this done sooner but I got sidetracked with a Check Please fest. 
> 
> Title from Halsey's "Heaven in Hiding" because that is my current #1 song for writing this stuff. 
> 
> It's sibling incest so the usual warnings apply, read at your own risk.
> 
> Disclaimer that this is a fictional representation of the people mentioned, no harm is meant, etc etc.

Taylor is wearing one of his old t-shirts, worn and soft and a little bit loose on her. She’s been stealing them whenever she comes to visit, he’s pretty sure, but it’s not something he minds. He’s got plenty of shirts and she looks good in them.

There’s a small part of him that gets a thrill when he sees her in his clothes like this, a small possessive curl in his belly that makes him want to keep her.

She’s visiting for the weekend because she’s been lonely at college and he had a day off for once and it’s always been impossible for him to say no to her, even though he should.

It’s been three months since she kissed him over the summer and he said _maybe_ instead of _no_. He should be keeping his distance, letting her grow out of it away from him, but, well.

He kisses her good morning in the kitchen because she’s wearing one of his shirts with a pair of sleep shorts and she’s sleepy and rumpled and beautiful and he’s always been a weak man.

 

 

 

Taylor is sprawled across the couch in the living room with her laptop and a backpack with papers spilling out when he gets back from his morning workout, typing furiously and scowling slightly.

He leans over the back of the couch to peer over her shoulder.

“Homework?” he asks.

“Essay,” she says with a groan, tipping her head back on the coach back. He brushes a kiss across her cheek, then smacks another on her forehead as he pulls away.

“How close are you to being done?” he asks. Taylor groans again and sits back up.

“Not close enough,” she says, “but it’s due Tuesday. I’ll probably write most of it tomorrow after I get home.”

“I’ve got some tape to go over before the game tomorrow, want to work for a while and then get lunch?” He’s already had the discussion about not asking too much about her schoolwork, but he can at least make sure he’s not stopping her from getting things done, even if it cuts into the time she has to visit.

“Okay,” she shrugs.

He drops another kiss on the top of her head before he leaves to go shower, just because he can.

 

 

 

Watching game tape with Taylor cuddled up next to him is probably one of the least effective ways to watch tape because he keeps getting distracted by her, but it’s worth it.

He gets through almost an hour of tape before Taylor sighs dramatically and closes her laptop. She sets it on the coffee table and sinks down against him, pressing her face against his shoulder.

He reaches out and wraps an arm around her, tugging her in, and she makes a contented noise.

“Done for now, eh?” he asks.

“Done enough,” she responds. “Another page to go and then I’ve got to edit, but that’s doable.”

“Yeah,” he says. She makes a discontented noise as he moves away for a moment so he can pause the tape and set his laptop on the table. Sidney chuckles and pulls her back in, and it’s so nice to be able to touch her like this.

Even if they weren’t doing whatever it is they’re doing, it’s nice to be able to spend time with her, with someone who isn’t just another teammate. It’s just better with whatever it is they’re doing, even though that’s something he tries not to think about too closely.

 

 

 

There are lines Sidney’s not willing to cross and this is getting close to them but it’s not quite there yet. He’s lying on the couch with Taylor sprawled on top of him, heavy and half asleep, head tucked up under his chin. There’s a hockey game on TV because even on nights he isn’t playing he can’t quite keep away, but he’s been paying more attention to his sister than the game.

It’s been a nice day, all told, and even though he always looks forward to games there’s a part of him that regrets that she’s going to leave tomorrow.

He’s got his arms wrapped around her, anchoring, one hand free to trace along the lines of her back.

It’s easy to drift like this, let himself think about what it would mean to have this all the time, not just in snippets and snatches of time whenever they can.

He would keep her here, if he could, but it’s a selfish thought. She’ll go back to school tomorrow while he’s getting ready for the game, then they’ll have a few years of catching moments while they can, then she’ll go to do whatever she’s going to after college. Play hockey, probably, if she wants to.

It’s harder for her, as a woman and as a goalie, and sometimes he feels guilty that he gets to have everything he’s ever wanted and she’ll be forever chasing something that’s just out of reach. He’s doing everything he can to give her hockey as long as he can, but that doesn’t mean that it’s enough. He’d give her everything if he could, and that feels like it should be something big but instead it’s just comforting.

Taylor stirs on top of him, nestling in closer. She takes in a breath, deliberately, and he can feel the fall of her back under his palm as she slowly exhales.

“Hey Sid,” she says softly, not turning to look at him.

“Yeah?” She smells good, the mingling scents of shampoo and lotion and whatever else she uses.

“Do you ever think about, if we weren’t…” she trails off, but Sidney’s pretty sure he knows what she’s talking about.

“Sometimes,” he says, voice rough. He slides a hand along the edge of her shirt, tracing the sliver of exposed skin. Taylor shivers.

“I just,” she says, and stops, sighs instead of continuing.

“Hey,” he says softly, “we’ll figure it out.” He presses a kiss to the top of her head.

“Yeah,” she says, and presses her face into his chest.  

 

 

 

Maybe it’s a stupid superstition to not talk to Taylor on game days. It’s easy enough most of the time when he doesn’t even get the chance to see her, when talking to her takes the effort of calling or Skyping.

He’s willing to throw it out today for once though, feeling like maybe he’s risking something with the hockey gods. It’s worth it for the few hours he gets to spend with her before he has to go in for practice, a small bubble of the two of them together before he leaves and she leaves and they go back to normal.

She kisses him good luck before he leaves for morning practice; she’ll have a few more hours before she has to grab a taxi to the airport but he won’t see her before then.

It feels a little bit like making their own kind of luck, maybe.

 

 

 

He doesn’t see her again until December, between his games and her games and how busy she is with school on top of it. They still talk every time they can, Skype and phone calls late at night when he’s in bed wishing she was there with him.

Taylor wears his shirts sometimes when they Skype, and he can’t tell if she’s doing it because she knows how much it gets to him or just because she likes to wear them. They still don’t talk about what they’re doing and it would be easy to pretend that everything is normal.

Sometimes he lets her voice wash over him and thinks about how easy it would be to wrap a hand around his cock and get off to the sound of her, but he never lets himself go that far. He gets off after, sometimes, after closing Skype and his laptop or hanging up on his phone, slips a hand down into his boxers where he’s already half-hard and tease himself to full hardness, strokes himself thinking about the hum of her voice in his ear and the sense memory of her body against his.

He comes over his fist, thinking about her, and he can almost ignore how guilty he feels afterwards.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [a physical fatality (the it could all be so simple remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14246742) by [saddestboner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saddestboner/pseuds/saddestboner)




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